


Happy To Be Stuck With You

by MusicalProstituteMyDear



Series: Their Little Family [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Caregiver!Aziraphale, Crying, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Little!Crowley, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Quarantined Together, Thumb-sucking, these idiots FINALLY move in together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:02:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalProstituteMyDear/pseuds/MusicalProstituteMyDear
Summary: Aziraphale has many regrets after that fateful phone conversation, and decides it's best to check in on Crowley. Quarantine be damned.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Their Little Family [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1422805
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Happy To Be Stuck With You

**Author's Note:**

> "Yes, it's true, I'm happy to be stuck with you  
> Yes, it's true, I'm so happy to be stuck with you  
> 'Cause I can see that you're happy to be stuck with me."  
> -Hewey Lewis & the News, 1986 A.D.

May 2020—Two Months into Quarantine.

As June approached, Londoners anticipated with immense hope that an influx of sun was going to bring. Aziraphale, for lack of an appropriate analogy, was bursting at the seams at the thought of summer on the horizon—although the streets of the city were quiet as ever, the angel was at least grateful that he could read in  _ peace, _ knowing the doors of his shop would be shut well after the lockdown was lifted to… “clean.” Or, whatever would ensure that patrons stayed away for just a bit longer. For the past month though, Aziraphale couldn’t help but crave the presence of just one person. Being. What have you. Just as he always did, whenever they were much more than a simple six feet apart.

That night he called Crowley, he was originally hoping to invite him over and have his dear boy stay with him for the duration of the quarantine. But, of course, Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to simply  _ tell  _ him how he really felt. He enjoyed the time alone, sure, but without Crowley the world was drab and dreary. Communication between the two had always seemed to have been shoddy, and Aziraphale wanted to slap himself silly for buying into his own anxieties yet again. Being a creature of light, Aziraphale was  _ nearly _ incapable of hate; the only things he could think of that he truly detested were Nazi’s and the incomparable despair in his heart when the demon wasn’t standing next to him.

Aziraphale was in dire need of his little, not to mention. It’d been a while since they two indulged in some ageplay, and the angel grew antsy. As he snaps back to reality, an interesting thought graces his mind… Well, just the fact that since they’re  _ both _ ethereal beings, who technically could never get sick (much less pass on a bloody virus), he wouldn’t be hurting anyone if he just so happened to pop by his partner’s apartment to apologise. No laws would be broken by earthly standards if he went to check in on him, surely? 

No, Aziraphale didn’t think so.

He hoists himself up from the sofa, grabs a bottle of his best chardonnay, and a light coat before heading out the back door, locking it to ensure those burglars from the other night don’t try anything again. He smooths out his hair before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and miracling himself to the inner quarters of the serpent’s flat. Newly appointed angels find themselves disoriented after a quick miracle, but since Aziraphale had been using his divinity as his means of travel since Eden, it became his second nature.

The instant the angel opened his eyes again, he felt an uneasiness stir in his soul—something was  _ very _ wrong. 

“Crowley?” He calls out. “Darling, where are you?”

As he ventures deeper, seeking out his lover, he begins to hear sounds of distress. Aziraphale’s heart begins to race as he follows the ruckus, not knowing exactly what he’d find him up to. He questions his whereabouts vocally once more until he stumbles upon his bedroom door, half open, where it was indeed crying he was hearing. He stumbles in, and there, no doubt, is a disheveled Crowley laying atop his mattress, just  _ sobbing _ his beloved head off. Aziraphale quickly places the alcohol on the floor before rushing over to the whimpering demon, stroking his hair, searching for any signs of injury or illness to have befallen him. 

“Crowley! What’s happened, my boy, have you regre—” and just as he verbalised it, it dawned upon him. Inspecting the man in question, he noticed his clothes were wet and had been discarded on the carpet, along with his bedsheets and blankets. The poor dear must’ve meant it when he said he was going to have a kip for  _ two whole months _ , as he didn’t even wake up to empty the contents of his bladder before he slept. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, which Aziraphale supposed was a good thing. 

With a wave of his caregiver’s hand, Crowley’s bed was made up comfortably with the sheets turned down so that he could easily put him back to bed once he’d been properly cleaned up. His little’s damp eyes filled with tears once more, and he outstretched his naked arms toward the angel, in hopes of being cuddled and comforted in his emotional turmoil.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Aziraphale murmured tenderly, taking the babe up in his arms, cradling him close. “You must be freezing, dear. Let’s get you dressed.”

At this point, Crowley’s wailing has quieted down, yet tears continued to cascade down his sunken cheeks. Aziraphale gently laid him down on his back before going about searching for the boy’s baby items. The angel has been looking after him in this manner for hundreds of years now and could never seem to locate the proper gear when the time came. He’d been meaning to talk to him about that, but that would obviously be a conversation for another day.

Once he’d put him in a clean nappy and ever-so soft sleeper, Aziraphale stripped down to his undershirt and internally shrugged.  _ This’ll have to do for now,  _ he rationalised. He tucked the boy in first, who then proceeded to squirm and whimper at the lack of attention he was receiving. Aziraphale’s heart sank, and he quickly scooched next to the little boy, who latched onto him with more enthusiasm than a baby koala to his mother. His caregiver smiled softly to himself, planting yet another kiss to the babe’s unruly hair, before finding a comfortable position for the two of them to sleep soundly in. Aziraphale couldn’t recall the last time he had a proper sleep—no celestial being requires it to function, after all—and seemed to forget exactly just how to do it. Crowley was out like a light, of course; life was a tiring affair, and although he would be the first to deny it, Anthony was a creature who had always felt the weight of the world’s upset upon his shoulders. If he wanted to rest, simply to forget what it was like to feel pain for a few measly, earthly hours, well then Aziraphale would be right there to tuck him in. 

“Hush now, Da’s here. I’m not going anywhere,” he breathed, making sure to turn off all the lights in the apartment. “Not ever.”

Two supernatural entities found themselves peacefully besides one another, and had they proper human anatomy, their hearts would beat in musical tandem as they drifted off to sleep. 

… 

Aziraphale figured that if Crowley was going to stay regressed for a longer period of time, it’d be best to take him to the bookshop. Two weeks after that fateful telephone conversation, the red-head was still little, and Aziraphale grew exponentially worried by the passing instant.

The baby currently lay asleep in the common room of the bookshop, tummy down, in a makeshift cot his Da made for him. Aziraphale looked on with a tender gaze from his position on the sofa as his charge’s back rose and fell with evened-out breathing. The boy’s Da put him down for a nap not too long ago, and the angel figured it would be best to simply let him sleep while he could. The darling had a rather rough time dropping and required some extra gentleness and babying from his caregiver, who was more than pleased to oblige. 

The little boy in question wore nothing but a long, cream-coloured nightie, some fluffy white socks, and a thick nappy (at Da’s request, due to the fact that the boy had been regressing substantially younger lately). Aziraphale felt his heart swell with parental pride at the sight of baby Anthony sleeping so soundly, without a fuss, and rather angelically (though, adult Crowley would have a scowl reserved just for considering such a notion). If it was any other era, when he woke up he would’ve wanted to take him shopping for some breathable summer clothes, or take him to the park to get ice cream and watch the ducks, but Aziraphale knew that it was best to spend their time inside, together, for however much longer the Lord had in sight.

Frankley, Aziraphale couldn’t be happier in their updated arrangement—and neither could Crowley. It allowed the two to expand upon this facet of their relationship in ways that the two wouldn’t have thought of in all the millennia they spent chasing each other. Aziraphale was beyond pleased that Crowley ended up spending the quarantine period over at his place, as opposed to them both stuck in sad isolation for God knows how long. 

“Da?” 

Aziraphale cooed. “Good morning, little prince,” shuffling over to the baby’s cot. “Did you have a splendid nap?”

Crowley hummed and rubbed at his eyes babyishly before he raised his arms above his head, stretched, and made grabby hands for him. Once Aziraphale had lifted him from his confines, he placed a sloppy kiss upon the babe’s warm cheek. Whenever Crowley was little, he couldn’t get enough of his caregiver’s kisses, and was rather spoiled in the sense of always getting cuddles whenever he so much as batted an eyelash. 

The babe nodded in accordance, happy that his voice was making a comeback after being nonverbal for so long. He nuzzled his face into his Da’s soft skin, which prompted yet another kiss from his caregiver. “How long was I out for?”

“About two weeks, darling,” the angel stated. “Do you recall the night I called you from my telephone, and you asked me if you could come over, but I somewhat turned you down?” Crowley made a funny face (which  _ was _ utterly adorable) but noted that he did remember that call. “Oh, sweetheart, I am truly so sorry. You know your Da fumbles with words from time to time, and I want nothing more than to feed you, and coddle you, and snuggle you all day long. Please forgive me.”

Anthony’s fingers had wiggled their way into his mouth and he began to suck. While he wasn’t feeling fully regressed, ‘adult’ wasn’t a term he resonated with at the moment. “‘S alright, ‘m sorry, too.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed. “Whatever for, little one?”

The baby huffed and took his fingers out of his mouth. “Shoulda told you how I was feeling…” Crowley leaned closer. “Get sad when I don’t see you for ‘while.”

The angel began to pet his little’s head, and did his best to abstain from letting out tears of genuine heartache at the thought of his very best friend hurting so deeply whenever they are apart. Aziraphale turned his head to meet Crowley’s glimmering eyes, a profound sorrow present beneath them that only the truth could set free.

“Well, my dear, I don’t like that one bit. I’ve never liked it, to be honest, and I think it’s time I, well, ‘popped’ the question,” said Aziraphale, sure as the setting sun to annunciate his P’s, which made the boy giggle. “How’s about we, oh, move in together? Or at least, just until this whole quarantine nonsense is dealt away with, to keep each other company, hmm?” 

The angel’s proposition was received with a gleeful yelp as Crowley wrapped his arms tighter around his caregiver’s neck. Aziraphale began to laugh, and his little boy followed shortly thereafter. “I take that as a yes?” He questioned, just to be sure.

“Da, I never, ever,  _ never _ wanna leave!”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale smiled. “In that case, my love, it’s official!”

The two spun around the bookshop for what felt like hours, laughing and sincerely  _ grateful  _ to have passed the threshold of communication that was holding them back from true cheerfulness. Without a doubt, they would be happy at home for a long, long, time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovies! Thank you for making it this far. Hope you're all staying healthy & well. I haven't given up on this series!


End file.
